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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109762">Expectant</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93'>Toinette93</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Gen, Major Character Injury, Mass Death, Not Beta Read, POV First Person, POV Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Triage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:27:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first cases are coming in, lacerations, burns, dehydration already. I assess, I tag, and I send to the appropriate waiting or treatment area.</p><p>---<br/>The Enterprise responds to a distress call from a Federation colony. When they get there, the colony has been all but destroyed. McCoy has to start triaging and treating the casualties, and is faced with some difficult choices</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk &amp; Leonard "Bones" McCoy &amp; Spock, James T. Kirk/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>50</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey folks,</p><p>I'm back with McCoy's POV ! Hope you will like the fic. </p><p>Please mind the tags and ratings this is pretty rough. As always, not a physician, so tell me if some inaccuracies are beyond suspension of disbelief. </p><p>Coments are most welcome, please enjoy and take care</p><p>LLAP</p><p>Toinette</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a disaster. I’ve seen war zones before, my fair share of battlefields, but this is beyond anything I’ve seen. Senseless killing, that's what it is. And we haven’t even landed, yet. We were on our way to do some explorin’, when we got a distress call from that Cochrane colony. Used to be on beautiful place, been colonized a while back. Sure, it was too out of the way to have all that large a population, but there were still twenty thousand people down there, about half of them concentrated in the capital city.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s almost all gone now. The city’s in ruin, there’s fire everywhere, and the shuttlecraft sensors are picking up high levels of radiation here and there. An automated ship attacked them, the distress call said. No reason, no explanation, just out of the blue, got there and started firing. And not just the one ship from orbit. Would have been too simple. There were lotta other smaller ships going down after buildings and people in the atmosphere. Communications cut out right about then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When we got there, we managed to destroy the ship in orbit fairly easily. Had been fairly damaged by the planetary defense system already. No casualties on the Enterprise. But we’re mostly too late for those poor sods in the capital And the smaller ships are still attacking the villages. There’s something about the atmosphere that makes it impossible to use transporters, so we can’t evacuate. We need to destroy those thing before they kill everyone around here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Of course Jim’s gone to do just that. Always has to go where it’s most dangerous, that one. Him, Spock and Giotto each have taken a bunch of men from security and a shuttle to go and hunt those bloody things down. Scotty’s in command up there in orbit. And I’m supposed to organize a field hospital down there. We’ve sent a message to Starfleet command asking for a medical ship, but it’ll be days before they get here. So we’re going to have to deal with this first. If only we can find someplace safe enough to land and get that hospital going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ensign Haines’s piloting the shuttle, and she’s found a place to land, finally. Yeah, that looks about right. It’s still a bit close to active fires to my taste, but it’s also already too far from the main population centers, and getting the wounded here is going to take long enough. We probably won’t find a better place.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Now that we’ve landed, the field hospital is up real fast. The orderlies and all the crewmen the Enterprise could spare have taken a few shuttlecrafts of their own. They’ll bring us the casualties. Not that we have to wait for them. There’s already plenty of wounded men and women right where we are. Christine and I are doing the triage, and giving some emergency, fast first-aid like stopping a wound from hemorrhaging. Geoff and Ignacio have set up two ORs in the shuttlecraft to deal with more complex cases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>We’ve got a lab for the analysis, and a decent amount of personnel and supplies for one ship, but I know it won’t be enough for the scale of the catastrophe even before we start. And I sure don’t like taking a look at the morgue and, not far from it, the tent we’ve set aside for expectant cases. Those we’ll tag black. Those too badly injured to be taken care of. Those we’ll dose with painkillers, and leave to die in the arms of crewmen with minimal medical experience, that’ll we try and rotate because that’s one of the hardest thing they’ll have to do in their entire lives. I already fear we won’t have enough crewmen to spare, and some people will die alone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The first cases are coming in, lacerations, burns, dehydration already. I assess, I tag, and I send to the appropriate waiting or treatment area. Many wounds are quite severe, and they get more so as the shuttle crafts come back with their first batches of wounded men. I find myself rarely tagging green – minimal, meaning people with very limited injuries. There are too many I tag red, for immediate treatment, for what Geoff and Ignacio can do, and so I find myself tagging doubtful cases yellow – delayed, sometimes giving some limited emergency treatment before sending them to wait. Christine has the first death, a young woman, with a bullet to the chest, who dies in the middle of her assessment. I have mine a few minutes later, an old man, who’s actually already dead when I look at him. And within the first hour, I have my first black tag, a man in his forties, unconscious, with blunt-force trauma to the head. Even in normal circumstances, I’m pretty darn sure he wouldn’t have survived, but there would have been a chance, and I sure as hell would have tried. As it is, as I get the hypo of painkillers into him and put the tag on him, my knuckles go white. Christine, working next to me, sends an encouraging nod my way, and goes back to reassuring a teenage boy that she’s tagged red, and that is almost immediately taken to M’Benga’s OR.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s been ten hours. We just got word that the medical ship Semmelweis is 48 hours away, coming at maximum warp. Once they get there, we’ll let them take over, but I don’t know how we’re going to hold on that long. Our supplies of blood and medicine might come up a bit short, so we’re being careful with them, but the main problem is how tired we are and are going to get. I’ve sent Sanchez to take a nap, which means I’m doing some of the slightly longer procedures now too, and Christine is dealing with most of the triage on her own. I’m still next to her, under a sterile field, so that she can ask my second opinion on complex cases.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>It’s been thirteen hours, we’ve had to wake up Ignacio, the shuttles have found a bomb site, and we need those two operating rooms. We’re all on stimulants, taking short break whenever we can, and it’s still not enough. We’re saving people, still, but we’re also losing patients one after the other, patients that we could have saved if we’d had the resources. Their conditions get worse and worse at arrival as time passes, as it’s been longer and longer since the moment they got hurt. We’ve had the first bad infection cases in abdominal wounds, and I’ve had to put too many a black tag on wounds that, taken earlier, would have been treatable. The pick-up teams are doing their best, exhausting themselves, but there are just not enough of us. How many people have already bled to death because we didn’t get to them in time? How many will die of dehydration, of infection, still, before we can reach them?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I keep on doing my job, a patient after the other, I can’t give them much of a reassurance, and my uniform is stained with blood, I must bit quite the scary sight. We’ve just had news from the landing parties, all of them have encountered some resistance, and we are to expect casualties.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>We’ve lost two crewmen, one who died on the scene, and one who died on the table. There’s an Ensign currently being operated on by Sanchez, he should make it, and a few others that can wait. I’m just about to go eat something, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve last eaten. Christine will go once I’m done.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Doctor.” I hear Chapel say, and there is a bit of urgency in her voice. I turn around back to the entrance, and there’s Spock, bloody – at least with him I know what’s his blood and what’s somebody else’s at first glance, and there’s definitely some of both there – but still walking, even if he’s leaning on Harrisson.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get him there.” I snap, and to Christine: “Go grab something to eat now. I’ll take care of this.”</p>
<p>She hesitates for an instant. “Nurse!” I say, and she nods and leaves. As she walks next to me I squeeze her arm, I know she cares about the hobgoblin, but we can’t afford to have only one person in triage for long, and I’m more qualified than she is to assess a Half-Vulcan. I knows she’ll understand.</p>
<p>I turn back to my patient, who’s still standing next to the diagnostics table.</p>
<p>“Sit down, Spock”</p>
<p>I help him sit, recalibrate the medical tricorder for his normals and start the initial scan, while looking him over. The scanner gives me the summary of all that’s wrong with the hobgoblin, and it’s a pretty extensive list. Would have diagnosed most of it with my eyes, except the two broken ribs, that must hurt like hell. It’s just hairline fractures, though, no risk of them puncturing the lungs. It could have been a lot worse. There’s a pretty deep laceration on his thigh that has bled a lot, could have been dangerous if left untreated, but the orderly on the shuttle has stopped the bleeding and it takes me only a couple of minutes to close the wound. None of the rest is life threatening, even if his fractured collar bone looks pretty bad and will probably need do be operated on, so he’s going to have to wait. I quickly wrap his arm to stop it from moving and punch him with a hypospray of painkillers, without asking him about it. I’ve got no time for his speech about being able to control the pain. Point being, he shouldn’t have to if it can be avoided. The painkiller should also help with the sprained ankle. Spock raises an eyebrow at my hypoing him but doesn’t comment. Good.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Spock you’re gonna have to wait for a while.”</p>
<p>“Logical, doctor, my wounds are not severe, I am able to control the pain and your limited resources will be better used elsewhere.”</p>
<p>Yeah, well I knew I could count on Spock to understand triage better than anyone else. It’s the logical thing to do, as the hobgoblin is sure to say. And I know it’s also the right decision. But that I know that it’s the right thing to do doesn’t mean that I’m all that fond of it. Especially since the signs of pain are quite visible on the Vulcan’s face, if you know where to look, and have been he’s physician long enough to. I hope the painkillers actually works.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Chapel is back from her break. Short one that was. Spock is getting up from the table, apparently decided to get himself to the tent all on his own. Well, I can’t seem to locate an available nurse and I was going to go grab something to eat. Might as well drop by the delayed cases tent on the way and accompany Spock there while I’m at it. Spock’s movements are slow, and careful.</p>
<p>“Wait, Mr Spock.” I grab a wheelchair and get it next to the bed. “Come on, get in there.”</p>
<p>“I can walk, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Doesn’t mean you should, now let me help get your scrawny ass in the chair, I’ll get you to the waiting room. I’ve got to go check on the people there anyway.”</p>
<p>Spock does as he’s told, which sure isn’t like him. Either he’s actually agreeing with me for once, or it’s sign that I should not let him wait for too long. Maybe both. I help him sit down, and we get going. I don’t know how the landing party’s mission is going, and I need information. Need to know if I’m likely to get more new casualties. So I ask.</p>
<p>“What happened, Spock? How are we on the mission to get rid of these things?”</p>
<p>“We have progressed considerably in out endeavor. There are only a limited number of those machines remaining. They have however proved to be quite formidable opponents. We had received the order to to rejoin captain Kirk’s forces for a final assault when I was injured.”</p>
<p>“Well, I sure hope they get rid of these machines fast. I sure as hell don’t need more wounded around here.”</p>
<p>“I concur, doctor.” Spock, says, as we arrive to the tent, which is quite full. I locate a fully equipped vacant biobed for the Vulcan, and help him settle down. I make sure the alarms are set for his unique physiology, and remind the nurse in charge of the tent of the particularities of the patient. Her report is as encouraging as it can be. We’re still losing far too many people, but we’re not quite out of supplies yet, and the orderlies, medical technicians, crewmen and officers from life sciences are frankly doing a better job than what should be expected of them. Not that I’m surprised, the Enterprise is a damn good crew.</p>
<p>I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a sandwich that fast. Not fifteen minutes after I left to take a break, I’m back at triaging.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks !</p>
<p>Hope you're doing good, and are enjoying this fic. </p>
<p>Forgot to tell you in the previous chapter notes, but this is completely written, and will be updated about once a day. So, this won't be abandonned, is what I'm saying.</p>
<p>As always, comments very much appreciated. </p>
<p>LLAP</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey folks,<br/>This chapter has some particular warnings, looks to the end-notes if you need a heads-up.<br/>Take care of yourselves out there!<br/>Toinette</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A school. Our pick-up teams have found a bombed-out school. Just as the night coming down meant we’d have to slow down on the searches a bit. I’m not even sure how long we’ve bee at it any more, can’t remember how long a day was supposed to be on this blasted planet. They’re not the fist kids we treat, but this time there’s dozens of them. Which is good news, in a sense. Means that they survived the blast that hit their school long enough to get to us. At least it will be good news if we can save them. But they’ve just been out there too long, at least a day, probably longer, we don’t know exactly when the place got hit. A lot of them are in pretty bad shape. We’re still going to do our darned best to keep them alive.</p><p> </p><p>The team that brought them here stays here. Sure won’t be leaving them to wait on their own. They’re between 5 and 10 years old for god’s sake! And they’ve already gone through something no adult should go have to, let alone a kid. The first few I treated were unconscious or too out of it to be able to talk. I checked the bandage that had been put on by the orderlies, tagged them red and sent them on their way to the OR. I’m fairly certain they’ll make it. Chapel’s last patient isn’t as lucky. Christine’s shaking her head, and biting her lips, looking at the little boy on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s dead.” she says to the orderly, who then takes him to the morgue, and her voice is shaking.</p><p> </p><p>I wish… I wish I could do something to help her, but my next patient is already there, a tiny, curly haired little girl, no more than 7 years old, all covered in dirt. She seems to be afraid and in pain, but at least she’s conscious and alert. The orderly carries her carefully onto the examination table and tells her:</p><p>“Dr McCoy here is going to have a look at you alright?”</p><p>She nods, but she looks scared of me, and hell, given what I probably look like, I can’t exactly blame her. She’s hugging her knees, and won’t look at me. I start whirring the scanner at her and she’s startled.</p><p>“Hey, there, sweetheart.” I tell her. “I’m not going to hurt you. This is just helping me to see what’s wrong with you. Where does it hurt?” I ask, although the way she’s holding her right arm makes that fairly obvious.</p><p>“My arm, sir.” She says in a very small voice. The tricorder agrees with her. It’s broken all right, but it’s a clean break. She’ll need a bit of time in a bone-knitter, but she’ll be fine. She can wait, however little I want her to. I’ll just use some painkillers, immobilize her arm and send her to the appropriate ward.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure it hurts, it’s broken, I’m sorry sweetie. I’m going to wrap it and give you some medicine and you’ll feel better, alright?”</p><p>She nods again. Brave little girl. Shit, could as easily have been my own Joanna. I do what I need to do and send her on her way.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>It’s night, the last of the kids has been taken care of. So far, we lost five, not counting those who died during transport. One died while Christine was looking at him, two died on the table, one afterwards – and there’s probably going to be a few more of those – and the last one, we haven’t been able to treat. I tagged him axpectant. He died a few minutes ago. The arrivals have all but stopped for now, M’Benga has gone to sleep for a few hours, and I should do the same. I'm tired enough that I even might. Sanchez is operating on a few of the less urgent cases whose condition was worsening.</p><p> </p><p>I walk along the line of tents on my way to what serves as crew quarters in this hellhole. I’ll just check the tent of delayed cases in passing, see if there’s any urgent help needed. On the way there I pass by Yeoman Tamura, I know she’s been helping with comforting the dying, volunteered for it, and she sure looks the part, with her worn face and red eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay, there, yeoman?” She’s just seen a 5-year-old die, of course she isn’t ok, but I ask, because what else can I do? Jim’s better at this stuff than I am, but he’s not here, we haven’t had word from the landing party yet.</p><p>“Yes, sir.” she says, straightening her posture. But she still looks drawn.</p><p>“Go get some rest, will ya?”</p><p>“I will” she says, and she picks herself her and walks away.</p><p>I probably didn’t make any difference. None of us will quite be the same after this anyhow. I’m going to make quite sure that the counsellors on the Semmelweis help our people too.</p><p> </p><p>I enter the tent. The on-duty nurse – Delane her name is I think, a recent recruit, usually working gamma shift, is busy filing a chart as I get in. It’s one tough way to begin a career, and I won’t blame her if she wants to run back planet-side after that start.</p><p>“Oh, good evening, doctor.” she says.</p><p>“Evening, nurse. How are things going around here?”</p><p>“Well, hum, I think, I think we’re managing, doctor, Dr. Sanchez still has two operations scheduled after the one he’s working on, and then, eerm, unless more casualties come in, we should be done for the night.”</p><p>The tent is far for being empty, and I wish the rest of them didn’t have to wait longer, but exhausted surgeons are not the best idea either. I’m about to turn in myself when I hear someone calling me.</p><p>“Doctor?”</p><p>That’s Spock. His voice sounds more pained that it should, and what is he still doing here? He should have been taken care of by M’Benga before he went off-shift, we’ve had some quieter moments in the afternoon, and Spock has been waiting for more than ten hours. I walk to his bedside, and Delane follows me.</p><p>“Yes, Spock?” I ask, and I start looking at the indicator over his bed, which tell me what I’d already guessed, which is that he’s in pain, and quite a bit of it.</p><p>“The captain?”</p><p>“We don’t have news yet Spock.”</p><p>“I see.” he answers, and he closes his eyes, visibly exhausted.</p><p>Spock shouldn’t be in that much pain, not with the kind of painkillers I’v been prescribing. Something must have gone wrong, even if the indicators don’t show anything of the sort, apart from the effects of the pain itself. I’m about to get my scanner out to double check when I think to look as his patient chart. It doesn’t show any drug having been administered to him since he got there. Someone had better give me a good explanation as to why that is.</p><p>“Nurse.” I say, as calmly as I can manage. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation for this, although I highly doubt it.</p><p>“Yes, doctor” she says.</p><p>“Why hasn’t Mr Spock been given any painkillers?”</p><p>“He said he didn’t need it, sir.” I scoff.</p><p>“And you believed him!” I say pointing at the readings over Spock’s head. She seems confused. “Well?” I add</p><p>“But… they say Vulcans can’t feel pain?”</p><p>“Can’t…” How can a qualified nurse utter something that utterly stupid as that, I just! Ok, Len, deep breath, you can do this. “Who’s they exactly, Nurse?”</p><p>“Er, I…”</p><p>Then Spocks <em>interrupts</em>.</p><p>“While it is incorrect that we do not feel pain, it is true that we are quite adept at controlling it, doctor. I am able to do it at present without the assistance of your potions.”</p><p>“Shut up, Spock, I’ll get back to you in a minute.” I say. Then I turn back to Delane</p><p>“But if they can...” she starts. She should definitely know better than to argue.</p><p>“Vulcans do have an ability to function under a lot of pain, nurse, but it’s not the same as not feeling it. And Mr Spock is half-human”</p><p>“I’m sorry, sir, I… I didn’t know...”</p><p>“And when did you plan on getting him treated exactly?”</p><p>“Errm, well, he said he could wait for the Semmelweis, and since Vulcans...”</p><p>“Vulcans…! Goddammit nurse, can’t you read a biobed readout! Or just look at you patient? This man shows clear signs of pain and exhaustion and you just let him suffer because of pre-conceived, erroneous notions on his species. And if you didn’t know enough about Vulcan physiology to treat him, you should have asked. But someone getting sub-par treatment because he’s not human is not acceptable, and it’s the kind of bigotry I won’t have in my sickbay. Is that understood?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” she says. She looks ashamed, and she damn well should. “And bring me some damn painkiller”. She goes to fetch some. I turn back to Spock.</p><p>“And you, you pig-headed, green-blooded hobgoblin, why on Earth did you tell her you didn’t need the painkillers?” He raises an eyebrow at me.</p><p>“I am able to endure the pain, doctor.” He says, although the sound of his voice largely disproves him. “And we should keep the available drugs for those who need it more than I do, it was a logical decision, doctor.”</p><p>I deflate at that. Of course he was trying to help others, that stupid pig-headed idiot.</p><p>“Spock, we have enough painkillers to last until the Semmelweis arrives. And even, if there was a shortage, it would be our problem, not yours.”</p><p>Delane is back with the hypo. I check its content, and at least it is compatible with Vulcan physiology and appropriately dosed. </p><p>“Thank you nurse.” I carefully hypo Spock, and almost immediately, he visibly relaxes. Well, visibly if you’re used to his facial expression, I have to admit that it is quite subtle. But the biobed readouts give the same information.</p><p>“Better, Spock?” I ask.</p><p>“Yes, doctor.”</p><p>I take a closer look at his wounds. I think he should get operated on sooner rather than later.</p><p>“Delane.” I ask. “When is the earliest you can get him treated?”</p><p>“Hum. Sanchez could operate on him in a couple of hours?”</p><p>I think for an instant. She’s right, it’s the earliest possibility, but Sanchez has been in there for almost ten hours, and he’s never operated on a Vulcan before, much less dealt with Spock’s quirky hybrid physiology. We don’t know how many more casualties will start arriving tomorrow morning, so we can’t wait for M’Benga either. Well, that leaves only one solution.</p><p>“OR n°2 is available at the moment right?”</p><p>“Yes, doctor.”</p><p>“Alright, I’ll take care of it. Nurse Wattana should be available, shouldn’t she?”</p><p>“Yes sir, I’ll com her.”</p><p>“Good. Come on Spock, I’m going to take care of those wounds.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The operation goes well. I also take the time to treat the other smaller injuries. There is something quite satisfying in seeing my patient properly taken care of, wounds treated and bandaged, not showing any signs of pain, and sleeping peacefully in the recovery room. I guess I needed this, and Spock certainly did. Speaking of sleep, I’m on duty again in four and a half hours. I should definitely get some.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So the content warning : this chapter contains the description of harm to children and death of children. I don't think it's any more graphic than this generally is, but it is there. </p><p>Heya people !<br/>Hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading this chapter, come talk to me in the comments.<br/>LLAP<br/>Toinette out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s morning, and I’ve even gotten some sleep. The cases have started arriving again, but much slower than yesterday. The shuttles, they’ve to go further away to pick them up now. Even have to dig those poor people out from collapsed buildings. Result is, I even got some time to treat those injuries that don’t require a full operation between triage cases. The operation rooms are still full all the time though, all right. There’s the occasional urgent arrival, and all the delayed cases from yesterday that need attention. The people that we do get are in really bad shape. I’ve had to use more black tags that I’m ever going to be comfortable with.</p><p> </p><p>Still no news from the captain’s landing party. Radio silence was expected, don’t want those killer robots to detect them, but this is getting long. They should be launching the assault anytime soon if they haven’t already.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>Well, apparently the captain has launched his attack all right. I talked too fast about things calming down. Wishful thinking, that was. One isolated machine must have broken out, we got a distress signal form a nearby village, lots of refugees over there, it was under attack. We sent what security we could muster and the machine was destroyed, but not without some casualties among our own people. And we were too late for most of the villagers, no matter how fast we reacted. Loads of incoming wounded, including tons of time-sensitive serious injuries. I’m elbows deep in blood again.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The Semmelweis should be here in a little over five hours. The flow of wounded has just started to go down a bit again, and I was thinking I could leave triage to Chapel, and open a third operation room. The number of critical cases is real high, and we’re losing too many people. And despite what I told Spock earlier, supplies are running low. Especially for transfusions.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor!” says Palmer, who’s dealing with our communications here. She sounds stressed. That’s unusual, she’s one of the calmest women I’ve ever met, seems to be a requisite to work in Uhura’s department.</p><p>“Yes, Lieutenant.” I answer.</p><p>“The landing party reports their mission is a success but there has been some casualties, and the captain has been injured.”</p><p>Dammit, Jim. Come on McCoy, stay professional there. You’ve managed so far.</p><p>“Any further information Lieutenant?”</p><p>“No, sir. The quality of the communication was not good enough. They should be there in fifteen minutes.”</p><p>“Thank you, Lieutenant.”</p><p>I keep on working, of course, but staying focused is hard. Come on, Jim, please be alright.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>He isn’t. He definitely isn’t. He’s obviously been caught in an explosion. His face is mostly intact, but almost nothing else is. He’s mangled, lacerations everywhere, and burns. I don’t… I don’t know where to even start. Calm down, Len. I tell myself. A panicking doctor is a useless doctor. My hands do what they’re supposed to do, take a reading, assess the damage, look for possible solutions.</p><p> </p><p>There isn’t one. There’s just too much damage, massive internal hemorrhaging, severe burns, multiple broken bones, his liver is al but destroyed, and he’s already in shock. In the best of federation hospitals, he may stand a chance. A slim one, and it would take hours in surgery but we might manage to pull him through. Here, I don’t have what it takes. And even if I did, I’d need more than one surgeon to perform the procedures, and there is only three of us. I can’t use that much of our limited resources on one man, even if he’s a starship captain. Darn, who am I kidding, even if he’s my best friend. The Semmelweis probably has what’s needed. But she’s five hours away. Jim doesn’t have five hours.</p><p> </p><p>Jim… I… I do my job. He is not fully conscious, but he still show signs of pain. I pump him full of painkillers. He’s fully sedated. Probably not going to wake up now. I file the information and put the black tag on. Hands steady, Leonard, you’re a surgeon. I won’t be able to stay with him. There’s a lot of work to be done here. There’s people to save. It would make no sense to not try and save him because of triage rules, and then not do my job afterwards. Fuck, now I sound like Spock. But in this case, I agree with him. I don’t like triage, I don’t think any doctor does, it’s a frankly barbaric way to deal with situations that just shouldn’t happen. But sometimes, it’s also the only possibility we have to save lives. And that’s what my job is. I don’t want to let die anyone that I could have saved. But oh, this is hard.</p><p> </p><p>I’m still going to accompany him to the tent, I need… I need to say... oh please, no... I need to say goodbye, even if he can’t hear me. And I’m not going to leave him on his own. I send someone to get Spock. I know it’s gonna be real hard on him too. But I count on him to be there for Jim, to the end. And then... we’ll have to be there for each other afterwards. If… Dammit, Bones, who are you kidding…. <em>When</em> Jim dies, the hobgoblin and I will be the closest we have to each other, arguing and all. And I know I would never forgive myself if I let Jim die alone, or deprived Spock of a chance to say goodbye too.</p><p> </p><p>I look at the reading, painkiller’s working. There, Jim, you shouldn’t be feeling any pain. I get him back on a stretcher and push him to the tent. There’s a few other patients in there already, I find a bed for Jim. No complex bio-beds, wouldn’t make much sense here, just basic life signs and pain indicators. At this point we just want them to be comfortable, that’s all. I push the nurse away. He pales when he sees the captain. “Don’t tell anyone yet”. I tell him. The crew can’t take that now. He nods. “Get Mr Spock in there when he arrives.” I add. He closes the curtains, giving us some privacy.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a chair next to the bed. Jim’s bed. I sit down. Jim… I wish I could say he looked peaceful, but he doesn’t, not really. He’s still bleeding sluggishly, and trembling. At least he doesn’t appear to be in pain. One of his hand is still intact. I take it in my own. There’s not much else I can do now. I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Shit, not now, Bones. Have to hold up till the hobgoblin shows up. A few still fall, I can’t help it. I’m exhausted, I’ve been working nonstop for the past few days to save people, people I don’t know, and I can’t even save my best friend. I need… I need to talk to him. I don’t have long. Spock will be there in a minute. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t understand. And there’s no way I’m gonna be coherent.</p><p> </p><p>“Jim” I start. “I know you can’t hear me, but… I’m sorry, kid. Why did you go and get killed, for fuck’s sake… I know, not your fault, you were the only one severely injured, probably protecting your crew. I’m sorry I couldn’t do any more. But I promise you, you won’t be in pain, and you won’t be alone. I can’t stay, damn surgeries to perform, but Spock will be there in a minute. The damn hobgoblin may be the most annoying being in the universe, but I trust him, to take care of you now.”</p><p> </p><p>And as I say it, I know I mean it. That green blooded bastard may well be the only one I would trust with this. Speaking of the devil… I hear footsteps closing in. I wipe my eyes dry. I hear Spock’s unmistakable baritone: “Dr McCoy has asked me to meet him here, as he arrived yet?” Well, sounds like no one told him. Even he wouldn’t be that calm in this situation. “In here. Follow me” answers Nurse Prini, I can hear the sob in his voice. I get up to meet Spock outside of that little room. He may be Vulcan, but he still deserves to be told before he has to see.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks,</p><p>You alright out there? Hope you're enjoying this, come tell me what you think - and please don't kill me :-). </p><p>Take care and LLAP</p><p>Toinette, out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Spock walks up to me as I exit the room. Still limping, but able to walk and his arm is well protected in its cast. Sure doing a lot better than he did a few hours ago. Seems to have slept, too. Good, he’s gonna need it. I least <em>he’s</em> not dying. Pretty low bar for a silver lining, right, Len? Nurse Prini walks away, letting us have some privacy.</p><p>“You wanted to see me, doctor?” he asks. There’s the barest trace of curiosity in his voice. Must be wondering</p><p>“Yes, Spock, ah...” I can feel the tears welling up again, damnit!</p><p>“Are you quite alright, doctor McCoy?” he asks, stepping nearer, arm half-outstretched. I’m crying for god sake, not about to keel over.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I’m… I’m fine”. Which is obviously a lie, and the expression on his face tells me that he knows. But he gets his hand down. There’s no good way to tell him what I have to tell him. the longer I take, the longer Jim’s alone in there, even if I’m only a few meters away. I promised he wouldn’t be alone.</p><p> </p><p>“Spock, the captain’s injured...” I don’t want to say the next words, and I think Spock has probably figured it out, from my first few words and where we are. He is standing even straighter than usual. I continue “Badly… He...he won’t make it, Spock. He’s in there, there’s nothing more I can do, he needs you.”</p><p> </p><p>Spock nods, his entire frame more tense than I’ve ever seen him, but he doesn’t say anything. I push back the curtain, and we get inside. He stands in the room, ramrod straight. I walk back to Jim’s side, readings haven’t changed much, it’s degrading, slowly, his breath has started to rattle, and the yellow color on his skin from the liver failure starts to show, but he doesn’t appear to be in pain.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey Jim, I’m here.” I touch his forehead “I brought Spock. He’s gonna stay with you, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Spock looks at the monitor. I know he knows enough about those things to be able to see the captain’s unconscious, but he doesn’t comment. Just as his silence begins to concern me, he asks:</p><p> </p><p>“What injuries is the captain suffering from, doctor?” he asks, calm as ever. A few years ago, I’d have yelled at him for that calm. Now, a short look at his posture is enough to tell me I have no reason to. I’m not sure I’d have the energy anyway. I hand him the report that’s on the pad, next to Jim’s bed. He starts reading through it.</p><p> </p><p>“I, hum… I can’t stay here long. I’m needed in surgery, there’s nothing here I can do that you can’t do as well, and I can still save a few lives down there. Please… please take care of him, will ya? The nurse will be right there, call him if there’s any change in the pain readings, or if he shows sign of distress.”</p><p> </p><p>“I assure you I will doctor. I assume you are certain there is no possibility for a cure?”</p><p> </p><p>I shouldn’t shout. But I do.</p><p> </p><p>“Dammit, Spock, of course I’m certain didn’t you think I checked every possibility? It’s Jim we’re talking about here. If the Semmelweis were here we’d have a chance, a small one, but a chance. Here… we just don’t have the resources, and there’s no way Jim will make it through those five hours. If there had been any possibility, Spock, Jim would be in surgery right now!”</p><p> </p><p>“I apologize doctor. I did not mean to cast doubt at your medical abilities or your dedication.”</p><p> </p><p>I just huff. He looks at me with his earnest eyes, and it takes everything I got not to sob. I’m a surgeon dammit. Dealing with death is part of the job. I could keep Jim alive for maybe one more hour, by putting in on more machines and treatments, but this would only cause him pain, and for what? If only we had a stasis unit, but we don’t. There’s nothing I can do. I know I’m doing the right thing, but it’s one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my whole damn life. And I’ve faced tough decisions before. Suddenly there is hand on my shoulder. Spock’s. I look at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor, the choice you are making is the logical one. I will make sure Jim is in no pain. He would understand, Leonard.”</p><p> </p><p>I really must look like shit if Spock is trying to comfort me.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Spock. I… I trust you on this. I have to go.”</p><p> </p><p>Having suqeezed Jim's shoulder one... one last time I leave the tent.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next five hours are hell. I operate on one critical patient after the other, stopping bleeds, closing down wounds, setting open fractures. Most of it will have to be redone. I have to work fast, to save as many lives as I can, so I only do the bare minimum to make sure they won’t die. Still, some do. At least it goes fast enough that I don’t have time to think. Surgery doesn’t exactly allow for musing about while performing it. When one of my patients, whose name I don’t know, dies on the table, I can’t help but think Jim might be doing the same thing right now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then there’s Christine’s hand on my shoulder, squeezing. I take in her appearance, the exhaustion on her face, the twitch in her pupil telling of too many rounds of stimulants and not enough sleep, the red of her eyes, probably from crying, the disarray of her usually perfect and improbable beehive hairdo.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We did our best, doctor.” she says</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And yeah, we have. She has. Best damn nurse I’ve ever had. And right here and now, holding on when most would have keeled over already.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you, Christine”. I answer, and I know she knows I mean it. We both sigh, and go get scrubbed and ready for our next patient. Which does survive, despite trying to crash on us twice.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>I get out of surgery again. M’Benga is waiting for me, and there’s another doctor next to him. One I don’t know, and with the look of someone who has actually slept in the past couple of days. The Semmelweis has arrived. I shake hand with the tiny Asian woman who has the stripes of a Lieutenant-Commander.</p>
<p>“I’m Dr Leonard McCoy, CMO of the Enterprise”</p>
<p>“Dr Wen Yu, second surgeon on the Semmelweis.”</p>
<p>“Well, I sure as hell am glad you’re here, this is a hellish place, now I guess your teams are ready to take over?”</p>
<p>“They have started to, relieving yours. Most of the personnel is already down here, Lieutenant Grabowski is taking care of getting supplies and additional operating room down, since we won’t be able to beam people up.”</p>
<p>“I guess you’ll be needing my report?”</p>
<p>“In time, yes, doctor.” she answers. “But Dr M’Benga has given me the initial information I needed and told me I could see the rest with a Lieutenant… Karen Tracy, is that right?”</p>
<p>M’Benga nods. Oh, yeah, we asked Lt Tracy to keep records. Had forgotten about that.</p>
<p>“I’m here to supervise the transition. I’ll just need the surgical report on this patient for now. I have the agreement of my captain to let the rest wait until you’ve all slept.”</p>
<p>“Thank you”. I say, distracted. The captain. I… he’s probably dead by now, but I haven’t had an update. This isn’t like Spock. I need to go see for myself.</p>
<p>“Doctor?” I can see some concern on Dr Yu’s face, and I’d swear she’s that close to getting her medical scanner out at me.</p>
<p>“I’m alright, doctor. Can you get the report from my head Nurse, Christine Chapel?” I ask, as Chapel comes out of the OR too. “There’s a patient I need to check up on. Geoff, give my apologies to Chris and tell her to get some damn sleep as soon as she’s finished, will ya?”</p>
<p>He nods, and before Yu has time to do anything, I’m out, running. I know I’m probably running to a dead man, but I’m worried about Spock not having sent word. And if there’s even the slightest chance the captain is still alive… I hear Yu in my back, sounding puzzled, saying “Of course, doctor McCoy”, but I’m outta range fast.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There, the tent, I get in, and I’m met by nurse Prini, who should definitely be off-shift by now. He’s talking to another nurse that I don’t know and who’s definitely from the Semmelweis. I nod to Prini and open the curtain to the captain’s room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Spock is still in there, sitting in the chair next to the captain’s bed, slumped, as if he fell asleep. Jim’s still there too. And a look at the indicator tells me that he is in fact, still alive. His whole metabolism is incredibly slow, but he’s not dead yet. That… that doesn’t make any kind of medical sense, but I sure ain’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. If there’s even the smallest chance... I rush towards the bed, scanner in hand. Then I notice the hands on Jim’s face, Spock’s hand. In the position for a Vulcan mind-meld. Spock! What in blazes have you done? Jim’s dying, I’m pretty darn sure melding with him is one hell of a dangerous thing to do.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I scan Jim first. Extremely low metabolism. The injuries are still there, of course, but somehow they have not killed him yet. He’s gone worst since I last saw him but not half as much as he should have. By all measure he should have been dead. I think Spock essentially put him his stasis with some sort of mind voodoo. If I can get him on one of the Semmelweis’ operation table, with all of their fancy equipment, I just might… It’s a long shot but, I sure as hell am gonna try. Don’t get your hopes up, Len, use your medical mind, you’re probably still going to lose Jim.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I scan the hobgoblin. Yeah, I’m probably going to lose both of them. I feel a surge of panic. That stubborn, green-blooded son of a bitch. The readings on Spock are as low, as alarming as on Jim. Even lower than when he’s one of those healing trances of his. And he’s apparently in pain, too, dammit. I hear a low murmur coming from his lips. It’s definitely not English. He doesn’t appear to have seen me, he’s too deep in the meld for that. I know enough not to try and break it now. I need M’Benga on this. This sure ain’t gonna help the transition with the Semmelweis, but it can’t wait. I comm him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks,</p>
<p>Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed !<br/>Bit of a short one I guess, but you can't tell me nothing's happening. I should probably have put this in an earlier chapter, but this story and in particular the part about the room for expectant cases, is inspired by the following text that can be found online : <br/>Kerstetter Jon, « Triage », River Teeth: A Journal of Nonfiction Narrative, vol. 13, no 2, 2012, pp. 61‑70.<br/>This text is the story told by a US army officer of the death of a soldier tagged expectant during the Irak war. It's really really tough to read, so if you look for it please proceed with caution. <br/>It's also based on a few scientific article on triage, in French however. If anyone is interested in the references, ask me in the comment, I'll provide them. <br/>I apologize for my profound inability not to quote my sources, I realize it's a bit weird on a fanfiction, but I really can't help it :-)<br/>Take care, come talk to me in the comments and LLAP<br/>Toinette out</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>M’Benga runs in the room. Yu is behind him, but she stays out of the room as Geoff comes to meet me. He takes on the scene, Spock slumped over, his uninjured hand on the captain’s psi-points, as Jim lies, at death doors. He visibly pales, and I ain’t sure it’s something I’ve ever seen before. Geoffrey M’Benga is the picture of equanimity in the craziest of situations. Then I show him the readings and he nods.</p><p>“Do you know for how long they have been like this?” He asks.</p><p>“No, I dunno.” Although from the readings I’m getting from Kirk it’s likely Spock has started doing his weird mumbo-jumbo the moment I left him with the captain. “Probably something around five hours.” I add.</p><p>“That’s a long time to hold a meld in the best of times.” Geoffrey sighs. “I don’t think we can break it now… With that kind of meld, the time elapsed and the state the captain is in, it could kill them both.”</p><p>Now, Geoff is thinking out loud. And I have no idea what he’s talking about.</p><p>“Geoff.” I interrupt him. “What do you mean by that kind of meld?”</p><p>“Spock is currently attempting to guide the captain through a healing trance...”</p><p>“A healing trance? But Jim’s human! We don’t have the physiological capability for that, Spock must know this!”</p><p>“Now, you see, I believe Spock does know that. He must have deducted that the effect of this technique applied to a human would be to reduce the body’s metabolism, enough to slow down the effect of the captain’s injury to keep him alive up to when he would be able to get treatment.”</p><p>I can see Geoffrey getting excited as he’s figuring it out. Seems like parts of him admires Spock for the ingenuity. Sometimes I can’t help but think he spent a bit too long on Vulcan. And, he remembers the consequences of this ingenuity as a frown returns to his face. While he explains, I keep taking readings on the captain, to see if it’ll really be possible to operate.</p><p>“With the state the captain’s in… Doing this is extremely dangerous for Commander Spock. On Vulcan, healers sometimes help others get into a trance, but even they would not risk it with someone so close to death. The only time anything like that would ever be attempted would be between bondmates, when the survival of both would already be at stake.”</p><p>“So, if Jim dies...”</p><p>“Commander Spock will most likely die too. A Vulcan healer might be able to help but...”</p><p>“Yeah, as far as I know the Semmelweis doesn’t have any on board. Dammit, Spock! What were you thinking exactly.” I grumble at the hobgoblin. “Can you keep an eye on both of them, Geoff? I’ll try and wrangle one of their most advanced OR from Yu. For someone I tagged expectant. In the middle of a triage situation. That might not be the easiest thing, I’ve ever have to do, but it sure should be far easier than keeping those two alive. I’ll manage. And, then I’ll need your help in the operating room.”</p><p>“Of course Leonard.”</p><p> </p><p>I get out and meet Dr Yu outside. She asks me:</p><p>“Dr McCoy, I could not help but see the uniform on the wounded man in there. Is this your captain?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s Jim Kirk.”</p><p>She looks at me with understand in her eyes. Well, so much for pretending what I’m going to ask her next is only to save one of the best captain and first officer in the fleet. Never worked when Spock did it, I don’t know how I even believed I would ever have had a chance to pull it off.</p><p>“I’m sorry, doctor.” she says, sincerely.</p><p>“Well, Dr Yu, I believe we might have a chance to save him yet. I didn’t think he’d survive that long, but now than the Semmelweis is here, I may be able to do something. Our Vulcan first officer, Mr Spock has used telepathic techniques to essentially put him in stasis, so he’s condition has not worsened much in the last five hours, but we need to act fast.”</p><p>“Can you tell me what the captain’s injuries are and what resources you would need?”</p><p>I explain it to her. The burns, the blood loss, the damaged organs, I don’t sugar coat it. She asks to know more about what Spock has done, and I tell her I don’t know much about it, only its effect and the danger it represents for the Vulcan. She seems surprised at the decision. To be honest I am too, and slightly alarmed. And I am familiar enough with Spock to realize that whatever he may say, he’s even more of an overly loyal, self-sacrificing idiot than he is a logical man. Still, this is going far, even for him. I finish by explaining what I would need. Three surgeons, including M’Benga and myself – Sanchez would stay to take care of the transition – five nurse, and a fully equipped operation room, one that includes rapid organ-cloning capabilities as well as full life support, potentially for two patients.</p><p>She seems to think for a second. I’m hoping she’ll give me one of the ORs on the Semmelweis itself. It’s unlikely to be used with transporters being unavailable, and I know the movable, shuttle-based ones will be needed here.</p><p>“I’m assigning you and operation room on the Semmelweis, I’ll find you a surgeon and two nurses from his or her team. They’ll be waiting for you on the ship. I guess you’ll want to work with your own nurses. The shuttlecraft Magellan, from your ship, should be free by now, you can use it. Will you manage to find someone to pilot it?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, erm, I think Lieutenant Harrisson is a decent pilot.”</p><p>“Well, go ahead, then. And good luck.”</p><p>“Thank you, doctor Yu.” Well, seems like she knows how to take a decision fast. Would be nice if we had more people like her at Starfleet Medical.</p><p>“No problem. I’ll go see the third of your doctors who should be out of surgery by now for the transition report.”</p><p> </p><p>I call the on-duty nurse and he comes by.</p><p>“Prini.” I ask him. “Haye, Nejeb and Wattana should have been off-shift for a while, right?”</p><p>“Yes, doctor.”</p><p>“Ok, get them and Harrisson to report to the Magellan in 5. And get a stretcher and two orderlies here on the double.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p> </p><p>I would rather work with Chapel, but she’s been on even longer that I have, and I’m already going to have to work on more stimulants than medically ideal. I get back into Jim’s room. Geoffrey is standing there, scanning Spock. I see the slight bluish tinge on the Vulcan’s lips. Dammit, that perfectly mathematical brain of his needs the oxygen! I tell M’Benga what Yu told me and he shows me his readings. We’re running out of time, for both of them. The orderlies with the gurney are there and we make our way to the shuttlecraft. The nurses and the pilot are already waiting for us. We situate our patients in the back. M’Benga manages to get an oxygen mask on Spock without breaking the meld and we fly out.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nothing much happens during the flight. The life signs of our two patients look stable, although they are still so low that we have trouble detecting them at all. The oxygen seems to have taken care of Mr Spock’s blue lips for now. When we get there, there are two orderlies with a stretcher, and two members of the Semmelweis crew, Dr Michaela Pichler and Nurse Attila Fehér, waiting for us.</p><p> </p><p>They welcome us with a few short sentence, and we get going. Dr Pichler is a very tall, very strong looking middle-aged woman, Nurse Fehér, despite his menacing first name, a skinny, quiet young man, and the way they interact shows they have been working together for a while. Seems like Yu got us a good team. They’ll be taking care of the new liver we have to grow from some of Jim’s stem cell and graft on. It’ll grow big enough inside the body to take over from full life support in a few days. I’ll deal with the rest of the injuries, and M’Benga will keep an eye on Spock.</p><p> </p><p>Before we step into the operation room, I hypo myself with a dose of stimulants. There ain’t any other way I’m going to be efficient enough on so little sleep. This way, I’ll manage.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>I’ve just woken up from a few hours of sleep to the beep of my communicator. I asked Pichler to wake me up once the anesthesia starts wearing off enough on Jim that we may try to get him and Spock out of the meld they’re still locked in. Those damn stimulants caught up to me once the operation was over. I don’t quite remember how I got to this bed, but I did. And now I’m getting back out of it</p><p> </p><p>The operation… it went well, considering. We couldn’t break the meld as long as Jim was that weak, would have killed Spock. Although who knows what it will have done to him staying in there for that long. Almost fifteen hours now. Stubborn hobgoblin. But the meld helped, actually. At least on Jim’s side. We didn’t have half as much bleeding problem as we would normally have had with that kind of liver failure. It will take a bit longer for the grafting to take, most likely, and I don’t know how much damage there will be, but we repaired the organs, and the damage to the blood vessels. He’s not out of danger yet, there’s still a risk of complications and infections, and he had lost a lot of blood, but Pichler told me he was stable for now, probably enough to take the breaking of the meld. He’ll probably have to stay on life support for a while, we had to get him some help to breathe as Spock started having trouble with his own breathing, but he’s been trying on his own a few times since, according to Pichler’s report, while Spock apparently has not.</p><p> </p><p>Cause yeah, we almost lost the hobgoblin a few times in there. His metabolism was already low to begin with, but he started to show signs of respiratory distress, and pain. Jim’s readings never got as bad as his on those counts. I’m pretty sure the damn pig-headed Vulcan was using whatever strength he had left to support Jim. He’s gonna get a bit of a talking to about self-preservation, when he wakes up. If he wakes up. We still have to break the meld and we aren’t sure what it’ll do to either of them. The fact that Jim’s made it that far is nothing short of a miracle. And Scotty’s the miracle worker, not me. I’m just an old country doctor. Apparently, if both survive, Spock, despite his more pitchfork-esque appearance will have to be added to the list.</p><p> </p><p>I enter a private room in the ICU of the Semmelweis. The whole team is already there. I sure hope we won’t be needing three surgeons and four nurses, but I’m glad we have the resources in case we do. An extra pair of hands can make all the difference in a case like that. But there’s still a triage situation down there and I have to ask.</p><p> </p><p>“Hello everyone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to see you here, Dr Pichler, and you Nurse Fehér, but aren’t you needed on the surface.”</p><p>Pichler is busy writing something on her padd and it’s the nurse who answers.</p><p>“We are on call on the ship in case of another major surgery beyond the capabilities of the installations on the planet surface. It hasn’t happened yet.”</p><p>“Alright. Then, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we get on with it. Geoffrey, how do you think we should do this?” I’m the CMO, but Geoffrey knows more about Vulcan mind-voodoo than I ever will.</p><p>“At this point I believe we will need some chemical help to break Spock’s concentration, as well as simply getting him physically away from the captain. Lysergine has proved efficient in shutting down telepathic activities in Vulcans in cases when control could not be applied. It’s rarely used because healers can generally rely on their own telepathy as well, but it is the best thing we have.”</p><p>“S’got a few rather nasty psychological effects in humans though, doesn’t it? Anxiety, hallucinations… Think Spock’s human half can take it?”</p><p>“I believe so, if we add some sedatives as well. They are compatible.”</p><p>“All right. Do we have oxygen, heart stimulator and cortical stimulator ready for both of them?”</p><p>“Yes, doctor.” answers Wattana.</p><p>“Good. Dr Pichler, can you take care of captain Kirk’s life support needs?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Geoff, you do the same for Spock?”</p><p>“All right Leonard”</p><p>“Fehér, Hayes, you’re with Pichler. Wattana, you’re with Dr M’Benga. Nejeb, you’re with me, to take care of whatever we did not see coming.”</p><p>They all nod. We’re starting. We’ve set up a biobed next to Jim’s to put Spock in once we get him out of the meld and the very uncomfortable-looking position he’s been in for the past fifteen hours. M’Benga is waiting at that biobed. Nejeb and Wattana are next to me, ready to get Spock on the bed once I’ve hypoed him and gotten him away from Jim. The captain’s unconscious at the moment and we’ve upped his sedation level, we don’t want him to feel any of this. Pichler, Fehér and Hayes are in position.</p><p>I look at everyone. They appear to be ready. I nod.</p><p>“Spock, I’m gonna break the meld. Jim is fine. Don’t stop us from helping you.”</p><p>I don’t know if he hears me, but it’s worth a try. I get the hypo in Spock’s neck, the two medications in there. At first, nothing happens. Then he slackens, his hand falling away from Jim’s face. I end up with an armful of Vulcan. Hell, he’s heavy, damn Vulcan high bone density. Wattana and Nejeb help me get him on the biobed. M’Benga is ready for him. I hear alarms on the other side. Jim. Without the Vulcan voodoo, his whole system appears to be, well, freaking out seems like the most apt description, even if Spock would begrudge its lack of precision. Heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, everything is going up like crazy. But Pichler and her team seem to be taking care of it, dispensing hypos and keeping him still as he starts trembling. And to think we already sedated him beforehand. At least he does seem to be perfectly able to breath on his own. And he’s already not quite as yellow as he’s been. The new liver appears to be doing its job.</p><p> </p><p>I turn to Spock. Who’s the picture of complete exhaustion. Every single vital is going down. Even his temperature is lower than usual for heaven’s sake. M’Benga is giving order to put him on a high-pressure oxygen mask. He’s not breathing on his own, at all. Hope we won’t need to intubate him, although the readings seem to suggest we don’t, at least for now, the oxygen saturation levels going back in the 90s. The planned hydration and nutrition is also put in place. We could not risk it while the meld was going but he needs it, badly. Vitals stabilizing, mostly, though at a dangerously low level. M’Benga tells me that it does not appear to be a healing trance. Can’t be as long as the lysergine is still in his system. I take a look at his former injuries, and set a regenerator on his arm.</p><p> </p><p>I look to the other side of the room. Jim appears to be stable, and Pichler confirms to me that he is. Unconscious for the moment, still. Probably for the best, the re-growing of a whole organ is not a process you particularly want to be awake for. Spock appears to be holding on too, although he is shivering in his state of unconsciousness. Temperature still a bit below normal. His healthy hand is reaching towards the captain. There’s a call on the comm. Pichler and Fehér are called for an emergency. I let them take our Nurses with them, seems like they’re going to need them. M’Benga and I stay on our own in the room. Chapel should be here in about ten minutes from the Enterprise to take over nursing care.</p><p> </p><p>“Geoff, don’t you think we should get him in his own room, and get the temperature up?”</p><p>M’Benga seems to think for an instant.</p><p>“I think it may be better to leave them close for the moment, Leonard. I believe Spock can feel the presence of the captain, and I don’t know how he’d react to not sensing him anymore at this point.”</p><p>“Alright.” I nod. I guess, even to a logical Vulcan, there’s such a thing as panicking from not being sure if someone you’ve work so hard to keep alive for so long is still there. Well, believe me Spock, I know the feeling. Besides, we all know the kind of effects Jim being in danger has on your Vulcan logic.</p><p>I’m still angry at Spock for the stun he pulled, without even telling me about it. I could have gotten a Nurse to monitor him, for heaven’s sake, at least help with the pain, know what we could or couldn’t do. I’m grateful, too, he saved Jim, but it came that close to killing him. Still might, although I’m hopeful. But he’ll get an earful whenever he’s well enough to take it. In the meantime, he’s still visibly cold. There’s a beep at the comlink. Chapel’s on board. M’Benga leaves to pick her up and show her the way here. While he’s gone, I look around the storage cabinet and finally find what I’m looking for. Thermal blanket. I get it on the Vulcan, and the shivering gets better.</p><p>“There, should help you deal with that ice-water you call blood.”</p><p>Then I go to Jim and look at the readings, improving steadily. He’s alive. I was so sure he was gonna die, and he did not. I feel tears of relief and exhaustion coming to my eyes, and I hold them back. I put a hand on Jim’s chest, it’s warm, and I can feel his heartbeat, firm and steady.</p><p>“Dammit, Jim. Don’t ever do anything like that again. Triage is hard enough when it isn’t your friends.”</p><p>I hear the noise of footsteps. Chapel and M’Benga, probably. I sigh, and pull myself together. And give Chapel report and instructions before going back to my quarters. And who knows, tired as I am I might even sleep a bit more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks,</p><p>How do you like it? I had a bit of fun with medication names, and OCs here, can you spot the silly jokes in there? Tell me in the comments. </p><p>Thanks for reading. </p><p>Take care and LLAP</p><p>Toinette out</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>A few days later</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re back on the Enterprise, and we’ve left that awful planet behind. We’re en route to Starbase 5 for well-deserved shore leave. We managed to get authorization to get the captain and Mr Spock on board. Spock was easy enough, lack of specialist on Vulcan physiology on the Semmelweis etc. Kirk was a bit trickier. We didn’t exactly tell Starfleet what happened between those two, it’s not exactly conform to regulations. </span>
  <span>Yu and Pichler both agreed that is was none of the brass’s business, doctor-patient confidentiality is still a thing. It’s actually Sanchez, always the researcher who found something about continuity of care and sufficient equipment that placated the brass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both of them are better, and I’m fairly certain they’ll both make a full recovery. </span>
  <span>There are a few… odd readings on the neurological scans, especially on Kirk, readings that should not appear on a non-telepath. M’Benga tells me it’s nothing to worry about, and that I should ask Spock about it. I definitely will. I’m not all that fond of these mind tricks. </span>
  <span>Kirk has woken up a few times already, although not long enough to ask questions yet. It won’t be long before he does. Spock worried us for a while, he seemed to be getting weaker and weaker. Yesterday, though, with the help of a telepathy stimulant concocted by M’Benga, he managed to get into a healing trance, and everything has improved since then. </span>
  <span>His arm is also mostly healed by now. </span>
  <span>He should come out of it soon enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
Well, speaking of the devil… Hayes just called me, Kirk is showing signs of waking up again. I get out of my office and to the side of Kirk’s bed. Hayes is right, he is definitely waking up. </span>
  <span>I still can’t quite believe he is alive. His eyes start to flutter open. I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder</span>
</p><p>“Hey, Jim, there, open your eyes, look at me.”</p><p>He does, and boy, am I happy to see those hazel eyes!</p><p>“<span>Bones?” He asks, voice hoarse.</span></p><p>“<span>Yeah, I’m there Jim, </span><span>you’re on the Enterprise, in sickbay,</span><span> how are you feeling.”</span></p><p>
  <span>He seems to think </span>
  <span>for an instant. </span>
</p><p>“Like a bunch of Klingons played in my insides fo hours?”</p><p>“Hey, I’m no Klingon! But yeah, it would figure, you’ve gone through some pretty extensive surgery Jim. Any pain?”</p><p>“<span>Yeah, a bit, I’m kinda sore everywhere, not </span><span>too</span><span> bad though”</span></p><p>I give him a hypo of painkillers. His face looses some of its tension immediately.</p><p>“Better?”</p><p>“Yeah, thanks.”</p><p>The readings seem to agree with him, but I still double-check.</p><p>“<span>I’m fine, Bones” he says, with a shit-eating grin. </span><span>Jim’s back all right. Those slightly odd neurological readings are still there, but they don’t seem to have done any damage. I’m sure gonna keep an eye on him though, and he’s not having any strenuous activity for a good long while.</span></p><p>“Fine?” I scoff, “Well, I’ll be the judge of that. I bet you still feel as weak as a newborn kitten, and I don’t want to see you in the state you were in a few days ago ever again, believe me. If it had not been for Spock...” I can’t help but saying.</p><p>“Spock!” says the captain, trying to get up “Is he alright?”</p><p>I push him back down.</p><p>“Yes, godammit Jim, he is, he’s in the biobed over there in a healing trance. And however stupid the stunt he pulled was, I won’t let his efforts go to waste because you just can’t lay still for five minutes.”</p><p>“Spock...he… he was in my head, wasn’t he?”</p><p>“So you remember that, hey… Wondered if you would. Yeah, he melded with you, kept your metabolism low enough to have enough time to get you on the Semmelweis and operate on you. Saved your life.”</p><p>“Isn’t that...”</p><p>“<span>Dangerous? Yeah, it definitely is. </span><span>And he didn’t tell anyone before doing it either.”</span></p><p>My anger is seeping through. Dammit, Leonard, get a grip. Jim’s in no shape to be dealing with this now. And Jim looks angry too and quite a bit worried.</p><p>“Jim, he’s going to be ok. I’ll yell at him when he’s up to it, and I’m sure you’ll do it too, but for now, you need to rest. Alright?”</p><p>He nods. Then:</p><p>“The mission?”</p><p>“In the Semmelweis’ crew capable hands. The Enterprise is just fine, we’re on our way to Starbase 5 for shore-leave.”</p><p>“<span>Did we figure out why Cochrane was attacked in the first place.”</span></p><p>“Automated weapon gone rogue. Starfleet is retracing its trajectory as we speak. But that’s enough information for today, Jim, you need to sleep.” I wouldn’t mind asking him a few more questions, but he is exhausted, and his eyes are starting to shut themselves again.</p><p>“Alright, Bones.” he says</p><p>“And Jim, I’m really glad you’re ok.”</p><p>“That bad, huh.” he says. “Thanks, Bones” he adds, falling asleep.</p><p>Yeah, I can’t help but think. That bad. My hand lingers on the captain’s shoulder for a bit longer that is strictly professional. Those odd readings are still there. There is also a big smile on his face. Well, glad the meds he's on seem to keep him happy. I get one good look at that smile, that I was so sure I would never see again, and I get back to my office. There’s paperwork to be done, catching up on routine business. Not the report on the Cochrane mission. I don’t think I can quite face that yet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks,<br/>Thanks for reading !<br/>So this is the beginning of the last leg of this fic. I might add an eleventh chapter to  tie out a few loose threads I noticed were still there. Come tell we what you thought in the comments, those are very much appreciated.<br/>Cheers and LLAP<br/>Toinette</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As I come in for my shift the next day, Sanchez tells me that Spock got out of his trance during M’Benga’s shift. </span>
  <span>A</span>
  <span>lso tells me that him and Spock have had time to yell at each other – well the captain sorta whisper-yelled – and make up during his shift. </span>
  <span>Jim has apparently started taking a few steps across sickbay.</span>
  <span> He was also</span>
  <span> starting to show signs of boredom. Yeah, that’s Jim alright. Almost dying and getting bored after not even two days of inactivity in sickbay. And no, being unconscious doesn’t count </span>
  <span>as rest, Jim how many times do I have to tell you exactly</span>
  <span>. Spock has already started asking permission to go back on duty. He’s awake at the moment </span>
  <span>and has been moved to an individual room, still close to the captain’s.</span>
  <span> I can tell Ignacio is happy to leave them to me, and I can’t say I blame him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I check on the captain first, who is asleep and doing much better. The grafted liver is working at full capacity and everything else is healing nicely. </span>
  <span>Those odd readings are still there but less pronounced. According to M’Benga it should solve itself on its own, and we should avoid leaving those two too far apart from each other while it does. He</span>
  <span>ll</span>
  <span>, like if that would change much from the usual. Seems like those two are always together to begin with, </span>
  <span>attached at the hip, they are</span>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>I move to Spock’s side. The first officer is seating up in bed, looking at a padd. </span>
  <span>He’s still pale, and has not had much of an appetite, but he doesn’t look like death warmed over anymore, at least. </span>
</p>
<p>“Doctor.” he acknowledges.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Mr Spock. How are you doing?”</p>
<p>“I am well, doctor, thank you.”</p>
<p>
  <span>I check the readings. I would not exactly say he is well, but he is doing far better, and that’ll have to do fo</span>
  <span>r</span>
  <span> now. </span>
  <span>His telepathy is still out of sorts, so we’ve had to use more lysergine on him, at lower dosage – seems like he doesn’t get any of the hallucinogenic effects humans sometimes get. Small mercies. But it will take a while for him to be back to normal. </span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Yeah, you’re better.” </span><span>I tell him. </span></p>
<p>“Then, doctor, would you certify me fit so that I may go back to my duties?”</p>
<p>“<span>No.” </span></p>
<p>He looks at me visibly waiting for a whole justification. I’m not gonna get into an argument about this now. I have more important fish to fry.</p>
<p>“Doctor?”</p>
<p>“No, Spock. You are in no condition to go back to full duty yet, and I want to monitor you in sickbay for a while longer. You can work from here if you want, light duties only. If you’re stronger in 24 hours I’ll release you to quarters, and we’ll see how things go from here. And don’t bother arguing, this is final.”</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s something in the calm way I said this that must have caught him by surprise or he’s hiding more tiredness than I thought, because he nods in acquiescence. </span>
  <span>I’m going to try staying as calm for the rest of what I’ve got to tell him. </span>
  <span>I’ve prepared my little speech.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Before allowing back on duty I also need to get a few pointers on your decision-making, Spock. I can’t have back on duty somebody who’s taking </span><span>undue risk, for himself or others. And that’s regulations.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>S</span>
  <span>pock almost sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>“And what undue risk do you believe I took, doctor?”</p>
<p>“<span>Oh, shut up, Spock you know what I’m talking about. W</span><span>hat you did </span><span>melding with the captain</span><span> was incredibly stupid. Don’t get me wrong, I’m real grateful to you Jim’s alive. But the chances were extremely small he would survive, and M’Benga told me that if he had died, you would have too. It was reckless, and hell, it was illogical. Didn’t you get how bad it was? I thought you knew better than to do something like that, Spock.”</span></p>
<p>“I was aware of the seriousness of the captain’s injury, doctor. The triaging tag on his bed was enough, if nothing else.”</p>
<p>I pale at that. I still remember having to put that tag on Jim, having to leave him to die… There’s a hand on my arm.</p>
<p>“Doctor, are you alright?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, Spock, I’m ok. It wasn’t an easy decision alright.”</p>
<p>“I know, doctor, but it was a logical one.”</p>
<p>“<span>Well, I’ll be, Spock you’re commending me on my logic. Stop trying to change the subject, you devious elf. </span><span>Now, </span><span>did you not know how dangerous it would be for you, should Jim die?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>I was fully aware of the risk</span><span>s</span><span>, doctor. However, you had pointed out that there was a possibility the captain might survive if he could be brought to the Semmelweis. I reasoned that it was a risk worth taking.”</span></p>
<p>“Well, the chances were damn slim, Spock, far too slim for it to be a logical decisions to make.”</p>
<p>“I was confident your operating skills would be sufficient, if I could make sure the captain had access to the necessary resources.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on Spock, you know damn well the chances were slim. And you don’t usually put that much trust in my beads and rattles as you call them. Hell, I had no idea if I would be able to save Jim. I know there’s something else there, come on, what is it?”</p>
<p>
  <span>I know I’m pushing, but I that lack of regard for his own safety is frankly concerning. </span>
  <span>I don’t know what I’m gonna find, but I know what I fear, that he may not care quite enough about his own life. </span>
</p>
<p>Spock sighs. Seems like I’m getting somewhere.</p>
<p>“Doctor McCoy, did doctor M’Benga explain to you the cases in which the techniques I used were practiced on Vulcan?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, amongst bonded pairs, but… You and Jim aren’t married now... are you?”</p>
<p>“No we are not, doctor, however...”</p>
<p>“Then, what does it have to do with it?”</p>
<p>“Doctor, this is a rather private matter.”</p>
<p>Then it hits me, and god, it makes sense, it’s not logical but it’s far better than Spock not caring about his own life, even if he still shouldn’t have done it. At least not without telling someone. And I wonder how I did not see it sooner.</p>
<p>“Spock, do you mean to say...”</p>
<p>It sounds so weird to say that out loud, about Spock, of all people, but…</p>
<p>“What, doctor?”</p>
<p>The tone of his voice makes me pretty sure I’m right.</p>
<p>“<span>You love him, don’t you?” </span><span>I say, softly. </span></p>
<p>“Love is a human emotion, doctor”</p>
<p>I stop his explanation and I’m about to call bullshit when I think of something.</p>
<p>“And… what would a Vulcan call it? What’s Jim to you Spock?”</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an almost-smile on Spock’s face </span>
  <span>and I know I asked the right question.</span>
</p>
<p>“Jim to me is thy’la.”</p>
<p>“Thy’la, eh?” I grumble. I don’t know what it means, but I can fell the affection it conveys.</p>
<p>“It’s… a close bond… different to a marriage one, but still very important...”</p>
<p>Spock doesn’t usually hesitate. It’s obvious he’s uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“It’s alright Spock. You don’t need to tell me more than that. I knew you cared about Jim, but… And that bond means that you will take that kind of risks? That it would be… expected for any Vulcan in that situation?”</p>
<p>“Precisely, doctor.”</p>
<p>I’m not sure I like the idea, I’m really not sure what I think about it yet.</p>
<p>“Does… does Jim know?”</p>
<p>“I would appreciate if you did not discuss this with the captain, doctor.”</p>
<p>“<span>I won’t, doctor-patient confidentiality, remember? But you should.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>I think for a second.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Wait a minute… </span><span>When you say a bond… do you mean, a telepathic one?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>I do not know for sure, doctor. As you know I have not yet been able to fully control my telepathic sense. I have also not been in direct contact with Jim.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>But it’s a possibility, right?”</span></p>
<p>“<span>It is, doctor.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The thing about a biobed is that Spock can’t quite hide his reaction as much as usual. Vitals are a bit of a giveaway. And what they’re telling me now is that this line of </span>
  <span>questioning</span>
  <span> is making him uncomfortable. Now, I generally don’t mind making the hobgoblin squirm a bit, good-naturedly of course – but not when he’s injured, that would not be right. Besides, the man does have a right to his privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>“<span>Well, Spock, I think you should talk to Jim about this, all right? I won’t ask you any more questions, unless it becomes medically necessary, but there are a few readings on Jim that make me think you might still be in some telepathic contact, M’Benga seems to think it’s temporary, but, then it might not.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Thank you, doctor McCoy. If these readings should indeed prove to be permanent, I will discuss the theme with the captain.”</span></p>
<p>“<span>Good.</span><span> And Spock, don’t do something like that behind my back ever again. </span><span>Is that understood.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>I </span>
  <span>think the fear behind the question peeks out of the pretend anger, because he just says.</span>
</p>
<p>“Yes, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Good, now, get some rest. I’ll see if you’re up to going back to your quarters and light duties in 24 hours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He nods. I go out of Spock’s room and back to my office.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey folks!</p>
<p>I added a chapter to the total count, cause some things needed to be adressed still. What did you think of the discussion between Spock and McCoy? I did not want to got into too much details into Spock and Kirk's relationship, because, to me, and to borrow a phrase from another fandom, it'll always remain ineffable. But tell me what you thought. Thanks for reading !</p>
<p>Take care and LLAP</p>
<p>Toinette</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Two weeks later</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I’m seated in my quarters, a bottle of bourbon in front of me – a quarter of it drunk already, an empty glass to my right. There’s also an open computer terminal there. I’m alone. And I’m looking at my report on the Cochrane mission. I’m late. No matter what the hobgoblin might want to claim I’m rarely late. I managed to delay having to file it by saying I wanted to get the Semmelweis’ initial report on their mission first, to complete our records, but that has arrived a few days ago. And the final deadline was ten minutes ago tonight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>I knew I would have to write it down at some point. But it’s been such a mess… And it’s come so close… too close. The report from the Semmelweis doesn’t help, and I can’t believe I could ever have thought it would. Just makes the scale of that disaster a bit more visible. Almost half the population, dead. Count is around 10 000 people. Turns out some villages had been attacked without our knowledge. All in all, between us and the Semmelweis, we treated 5 000 people. It could have been worse. Most of those we treated, we saved. The numbers are not quite there yet, still a few people that might die from sustained wounds, and those will probably have long-lasting effects anyhow, but… 479 people that were registered by us or the Semmelweis died. That’s a lot of people. And for absolutely nothing. Because of a machine from a long-finished war, not unlike that doomsday machine we stopped a while back, if not quite as efficient. Not that it’ll make a lot of difference to all those burned corpses.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Starfleet’s evacuating the colony. It was a small one, out of the way, a bygone of the years before transporters. Maybe someday it’ll be alive again. But for now it’s abandoned, and far too much like one of those dead worlds we have encountered on our journey. A stark reminder of how dangerous a place this damn universe is. I’ve written the statistical and surgical reports. The summary of crew performance. Delane’s leaving the ship. I feel a bit sorry for her, it was a tough first mission. But I don’t think deep space is for her. Hell, I’m not even sure it’s for me, these days. Still, I’m asking for commendations for most of the staff. They’ve been the best medical team I could dream of. And I’ve had the pleasure to write a letter of recommendation for Tamura. She wants to transfer to medical, get training as a nurse. She helped those dying kids, and she’s still willing to do that job. I’m pretty sure she’ll be a good one, although how she came to that decision is beyond me.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>What’s not quite finished is the captain’s file. The description of his injuries and of the triage decision I had to make. All the business with Spock, how that decision came to be in error, all that is written. Wasn’t a fun thing to write, but I got through it. Pichler’s surgical summary helped. But that moment… Well, I’ve had a few unpleasant dreams, all right. It’s not the first time I condemn to death someone I love, and it’s not the first time I’m wrong either. And last time… I didn’t have a Vulcan. That’s what I needed the booze for. I don’t normally drink on duty, but this is just a few sentences, just a copy from the initial triage tag, and there was no way I was going to do that sober.</p>
<p>I send it, half an hour late. Not that it will make much of a difference. And then there’s a buzz at my door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Come on in” I growl. Whoever’s coming had better had a damn good reason because I’m in no mood to talk to anyone tonight. I turn around and there is Spock, standing in the doorway, tall and lean as always. Been back on duty for a few days, both he and the captain, and he seems fine. I’ll see both of them in sickbay tomorrow for a final check-up. I bet he’s here because of that bloody half-hour. As if it’s going to change anything for those dead people. And he’s supposed to be off-duty, the damn hobgoblin.</p>
<p>“I’ve sent the report Spock, there’s no need to come needling me about it. You can go back to your meditations or whatever you do in your spare time.”</p>
<p>And there’s the eyebrow in the hairline. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to be polite tonight, I have no patience. Spent too much time reading over the autopsy reports of kids that could just as well have been my daughter.</p>
<p>“I am not here to reprimand you on the delayed sending of your report, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Well, whatever you’re here for, Spock, I’m not exactly in the mood for rules and regulations.”</p>
<p>“Your ‘mood’ as you put it, is however the subject of my visit.”</p>
<p>“What, I’ve been too snarky with some of the new kids? That new Ensign from engineering forgot to put on his shoes!”</p>
<p>“You misunderstand me, doctor. The captain and I have noticed the delay in your filing the report...”</p>
<p>“So that’s about the delay after all.”</p>
<p>“Please, doctor, let me finish.”</p>
<p>I roll my eyes but let him talk. Who knows, maybe one of our arguments will get the image of his and the captain’s too still bodies out of my head.</p>
<p>“Such a delay is very unusual for you, and although it is not a major problem for ship efficiency in itself, it appeared that it may be a sign of distress on your part. I talked the captain and he agreed. He also suggested you might need some sort of support after having finished the report. As he himself cannot come for another half-hour due to current ship business, he asked me to precede him here, as, as he put it, you should not be left alone. I concur.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, a moody surgeon could make mistake, that’s your motivation, I’m sure.” I grumble.</p>
<p>“Really, doctor?” He tells me and I know I’m being unfair. It’s quite a gesture from Spock, and mustn't be easy for a Vulcan to come offer emotional support to a pesky and thorny human like me.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, Spock. I… Thank you… I appreciate it really.”</p>
<p>“Thanks are unnecessary, doctor.”</p>
<p>“Well, instead of explaining to me all the logic of what you’re trying to do, which I’m sure is impeccable, what don’t you tell me what the plan is?”</p>
<p>“I had brought a few pre-Surakian poems that I thought we could discuss. Then, the captain should join us for dinner. There was an old movie adaptation of one of Marlowe’s play he wanted to show both of us, and I believe he mentioned popcorn.”</p>
<p>“A whole slumber party, Spock?”</p>
<p>“I do not know the term, doctor.” He says, with absolute dignity.</p>
<p>“No you wouldn’t.”</p>
<p>And so that’s what we do. Jim joins us, right on time, and the way Spock turns towards a door a bit early, even for his Vulcan ears, I can’t help but think there’s something going on there, but it’s not my business and I don’t ask. Jim looks incredibly alive, he smiles, and he jokes, and he even brought some very good alcohol as well as some very bitter tea that Spock seems to enjoy. We don’t talk about what happened on Cochrane, but Jim’s even more physical in his shows of affection than usual, well, he’s downright cuddly, more than the amount of alcohol he’s had can be responsible for. Even Spock has a hand on my shoulder once or twice. It becomes an enjoyable evening after a bit, and when I fall asleep that night, tucked in by my very alive best friend who then leaves with his first officer that he so visibly cares for, no monsters come to haunt my dreams, even if the dead are not forgotten.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And... this is it folks. </p>
<p>The end of that little story. I think it needed this little epilogue of a chapter to tie in a few loose ends. </p>
<p>Thank you so much for reading, for giving kudos and for commenting, the comments have made this fic better (I rewrote the ending following one comment :-), so thanks). Don't hesitate to tell me what you thought of this last one either. </p>
<p>Hope you enjoyed, take care, live long and prosper. </p>
<p>Toinette out</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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